Page 109 of Twisted Violet

Then say the only thing that feels true. “Because I want to.”

That’s it.

No conditions.

No expectations.

She nods once, then unlocks her car.

And this time… she doesn’t leave right away.

She sits there in the driver’s seat, engine off, watching me through the mirror like she’s trying to decide something.

Then she reaches across the console and pops the passenger lock.

I hesitate.

It’s new.

Different.

I open the door and slide in. The car smells like her. Like vanilla and and sugar and warmth.

She keeps her hands on the wheel and stares out the window.

“You seem… different.” She says quietly.

I lean back, watching her profile in the dim glow from the parking lot light.

“I’m finally dealing with all the shit in my head.” I say, nodding. “Started going to therapy.”

Her eyes flick to me. “That’s good. Has it been helping?”

“I think so.” I pause, tapping my fingers against my knees. “It’s been hard, but I like doing the work.”

She bites her lip, eyes still locked on the windshield. “Is that why you’ve been showing up here at night? Some sort of exposure therapy for the dark?”

“It’s part of it,” I admit.

She hesitates, fingers brushing over the stitching on the steering wheel.

“What’s the other part?” She asks softly.

I glance at her. “You really want to know?”

She nods.

I close my eyes, and allow myself to be pulled back into the memory.

“Before I met Rome, I was involved in a gang that dealt with some nefarious shit. Violent assaults, extortion, assassinations. I was young, naïve, and eager to please. On this particular night, my crew was assigned a hit job. It was supposed to be clean. A rival gang leader and a few of his soldiers. We were told his familywas gone for the weekend. Everyone was sure of it.Iwas sure of it.”

Her hands tighten on the wheel, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“Then I heard it. A kid crying. Muffled, somewhere in the drywall. I followed it to a closet, found a panel half-hidden behind some coats. He couldn’t have been older than four. He was curled up with a stuffed lion soaked in someone else’s blood.”

Her breath hitches, but she stays quiet.

“When he saw me, he begged for his mom, and I didn’t know what to do. Women and children had always been a hard line for me, but I should’ve made an exception then. I should’ve ended it for him so he wouldn’t have to live through what came next.” My jaw locks.